Welcome to my perfumed garden

He's huge and rather stately. I shall call him Ozymandias.



In other news: the back still hurts but the meds are good, and speaking of drugs, Coventry Telegraph, what are you on??!

Laden with goodies from Matta's in Bold Street, also a brown turkey fig for the garden, some damn good wine, acquired (cough) Michael Wood (In Search of Shakespeare) on our telly and my copy of Doc2 DVD The Invasion (with added Lethbridge-Stewart!) has arrived.

Can a person's cup runneth with more joy than this? Well, yeas, probably. I mean, I could win the £51 mill on  the Euro-lottery. any number of wonderful things might happen but for now, I am content. This is uncommon enough to be worthy of a post. ::nods thoughtfully::

PS: There are an awful lot of Spaniards dressed in red and white and flags proclaiming allegiance to something called 'Atlético' wandering the streets of my former home city. Is there, perchance, a match on...?

I've been in the garden for most of it, training some trees (I'm having a crack at espalliering), planting stuff, sowing seeds, sorting out my pond and trying to keep out of the way of frisky, horny toads, getting my potatoes in, digging about (still finding huge bits of stone from the long-demolished  toilet) and generally being a hoary-handed daughter of the soil. Spring is busting out all over, there are Bullfinches in the hedge and the squee factor is high.

I'm constantly coming up against bits of old china. Those Victorians must have been the most appalling butterfingers, the stuff is everywhere.

Wherever you are, whatever you've done with your days, I hope you've had good times, my lovely darlings.

and a nice cup of Lapsang.

Gosh, I'm tired, and bored, and fed up but mostly tired. I've stripped the beds, cleaned the bedrooms, finally got Dad to change his shirt (long involved story, not for the faint-hearted either), done the laundry, moved, fed, watered and pinched out the rampantly crinoidal tomatoes. Should be writing the novel but needed fortification first.

I won't say it's not going well, it's just going slowly. Very. There is much work to be done - far, far more than I'd thought. A week in and I'm just working on chapter 8. Is it really only a week since I started this last draft? It feels so very much longer.

Hey ho, back into the fray. Oh, look at that, it's raining. There's a thing...

Have stripped my lovely whitecurrant almost to the bone!

::shakes fist. snarls::

Bastards!!!

Posting from the garden, the sun is out, all is lush and green and lovely. Stephen Fry is talking glorious nonsense on listen again on fabulous Radio Four, (two national treasures in one delightful, easy to use package!) I have tea, everything smells of mown grass and jasmine, swallows swooping in the field at the back. What a lovely country this is, to be sure.

I am glad to be alive today.

I just thought I'd mention it, for the record and all that.

Staring at the lappy in dazed confusion, one coffee already consumed, more in the offing I suspect. I'm not sleeping well I never really do when we're at Dad's, too much going on till the wee small hours, too much happening in my head. I tried Horlicks last night but all it did was make me need to get up and pee at 2.30am.

::scratches head::

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Entanglement. I'm 4 chapters from the end of my second draft and on a push to finish by the end of the weekend. Then it's on! with the third draft. In between drafts I'll be attempting to make myself work out a submission for literary agents, the bit I hate most.

Look at that, sun is shining! Oh, and potatoes need to be got from their pot too, also laundry, clean the kitchen and a work out. Oh yeah, it's all thrills, spills and dizzy excitements all the time round here.

OK. Enough with the yapping.

Our new Aga arrives. Can't be connected and fired up till the builder returns from the Algarve but it will be placed on its wee plinth and...

Ah. It should be a thing of excitement and joy but instead I'm feeling sad and sentimental for the poor old rusting, failing stove that the Aga-boys will be taking away with them for butchery. Poor old stove. It's been in our kitchen since 1987. I feel like I'm having the old dog put down.

In other news, it would have been my Mum's 80th birthday today. I planted the massive Madonna lilies I bought for her 78th in our garden. They opened their buds today, blooming away and pumping out the perfume.

A day of sad nostalgia indeed.

Please to be keeping your fingers crossed that it all goes well tomorrow, so much could go wrong and lawks a lawdy my loves, the £££! O:

ETA: Re: Byron. Good heavens above, Rupert, darling, not everything is about teh gay. Calm down dear! It really doesn't take much to get the dear boy going, does it?

And omg it's enemas now!  And that Versace woman. What's up with her face?! O:!!!  She's had 'work' done hasn't she? She looks like a Lady Penelope doll that's spent time in a slow oven.

Nice arse but what are they doing to his poor dick? It sounds very painful. Clearly a man dedicated to his art. ::nods::

And we end on Byrons perfectly preserved, massive pickled erection. Most enjoyable.

So glad I decided to let the garden have its own way viz wild strawberries for ground cover. They really would cover everything if I let them, if I didn't keep them constantly in check. Not these babies though, we ate them for dinner and very good they were, too :o)

( M'wild strawberries )

And then the heavens opened, and then my camera batteries died. :o)

In a brief trip to buy pjs  I may have accidentally bought a rambling rose, a redcurrant, pak choi and tatsoi plants, some interesting spices, a Camembert and 2 bunches of asparagus for dinner tonight. How do these things happen?!?

The Garden Centre at Botany Bay had Noggin the Nog garden figures. Alas, they were rather pricey and I couldn't bring myself to shell out quite so much for a bit of reconstituted stone no matter how Noggin (or dragon) shaped, but this is going to prey on my mind for weeks now, I tell you, weeks!

Right, tea and a bagel and ON! with the work for I needs must play catch-up nao.